


This is normal

by thetwistedcelestials



Series: Touch [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:16:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetwistedcelestials/pseuds/thetwistedcelestials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles, sick with the flu, holds onto his werewolf hot water bottle and wonders if he and Scott are normal.  And figures out that it doesn't really matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is normal

**Author's Note:**

> An interlude between Scott and Stiles, with Scott comforting a sick Stiles while Stiles reflects on how few boundaries their friendship has.
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome.

The hug was normal. Stiles shifted back slightly, pressing the coldest parts of his body towards the warmth. Scott always gave good hugs. They had been hugging each other since they were, like, five. Stiles, still feeling the effects of the fever, thinks back to a few weeks ago, to the hug they shared after that second full moon.

\--  
-Three weeks ago-

When Stiles walked into school the day after the full moon, Scott gave him a huge grin and a hug. Not a fake hug, none of those across-the-shoulders, leaning away from each other “hugs” that people seemed to give each other. It was a real hug, an-arm-across-the-shoulder-and-an-arm-around-the-around-the-middle-of-his-back-stepping-in-close-together-hips-touching kind of a hug.

It was their normal hug, manly back pounding optional. The hug they gave when they were feeling good. The hug they gave when they were hurting. The hug they gave when there were scared, they were lost, or they were feeling down. It was their hug.

They had survived their second full moon, mauling kept to a minimum. A movie marathon, pizza, the works were called for. Except there wasn’t time. So maybe they’d have to settle for a hug.

\--  
Stiles coughed, coming back from his memories, biting back a groan as his sore muscles clenched. A warm hand ran up and down his front, trying to soothe the ache. It helped, a little.

It had also felt normal when Scott came over, the third day after Alison wasn’t speaking to Scott. She had been avoiding him ever since they had been trapped at the school together. It occurred to Stiles that the massage wasn’t usual per se, but it had felt normal. Still did, really, even in hindsight. Mostly. How long ago had it been? Another cough wracked through him. A hand, warm even against Stiles’ fevered skin, gently pressed against his bare chest, while another rubbed his back soothingly. Weeks? Surely it couldn’t have been weeks. Stiles felt like he had been sick for an eternity. Maybe two.  
 _Stupid flu. Stupid cold weather_ , he thought muzzily, leaning back into Scott’s heat, shivering even as he slipped in and out of consciousness, memory taking him back a couple of weeks. 

\--  
-Two weeks ago-

Stiles heard the front door open and close, but he kept working on his computer. He had just found an interesting reference to a text he had been reading about pack dynamics and the role of the Alpha. Crosschecking and cross-referencing seemed to help sift through the fact and fiction. And if they could figure out a way for Scott to resist the Alpha’s call, all the better. _Hm…maybe I should check this against…_

Arms wrapped around him and he was flying through the air before he could finish the thought. He landed on the bed with a thump, breath knocked out of him, the arms still trapping him. Taking a moment to get his bearings (and wait for his heart to slow down), he tried to figure out what had just happened. Turning his head, he looked at who was holding him. Ah, Scott.

“You okay there, buddy?”

Scott grunted in response, opening his eyes briefly with a flash of amber, before curling tighter around Stiles. Trying to slow down his heart, Stiles shifted around to face Scott. He tucked his arm under Scott’s neck and drew random patterns on Scott’s back with the other. The attempts to talk with Allison weren’t working too well. As in, they weren’t happening. She was screening Scott’s calls and the administration had canceled school today, for the police investigation, so he couldn’t see her then.

“You want to talk about it?”

Another grunt. Stiles sighed. _Why don’t they have a section in the best friend manual on what to do when you’re best friend is bitten by a werewolf, then transforms into a werewolf, and then starts dating (and is subsequently dumped by) a girl who’s family is actively trying to kill said best friend slash werewolf because of all of the werewolf-related secrets he’s keeping to keep her safe? Really, would that be too much to ask?_ Stiles sighed again. 

Scott let go of Stiles with one of his arms; Stiles felt the scrape of claws as Scott pulled his hand under Scott’s shirt. Stiles kept drawing random patterns on Scott’s bare skin, feeling the tension underneath his touch.

“Dude, you’re…really tense. And, wow, being wolfed out? Totally adds muscle density.”

Scott half-heartedly growled, cracking his still amber eyes open to glare at Stiles. Grinning back, Stiles pulled free from the teen wolf’s arms and pushed Scott onto his stomach. Before either of them could think too much, Stiles straddled his friend’s hips and started tugging on the teen’s shirt. Scott groaned in protest, but Stiles was persistent. With a bit of tug of war and some clever maneuvering, they managed to get Scott’s shirt off without dislodging Stiles.

Stiles started at the shoulders, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles, noting how much warmer Scott’s body was. He hummed tunelessly as he worked, trying to find any knots. A small corner of Stiles’ head was trying to yell at him, worried about being so close to a wolfed-out Scott (Stiles didn’t like that part to much, so he shoved it into a corner). Mostly, he just felt comfortable, falling into a rhythmic daze. 

Scott growled slightly when Stiles’ hands found one, but sighed in satisfaction when it loosened. Humming tunelessly under his breath, Stiles kept moving his hands in steady strokes along Scott’s back, finding and kneading away knots. He worked his way up to gently scratch Scott’s scalp, running his hands through the messy mop of hair, then down his spine.

Lost in the motions, a part of his brain was still noting how Scott reacted to the touch. When Stiles reached Scott’s lower back, the amber left his eyes. As he worked his fingers down Scott’s arms, the claws withdrew to nails, allowing Stiles to rub each finger, paying special attention to the tiny spaces between them. Some of the extra muscle mass melted away.

As Stiles worked, Scott started talking, about this and that. At first, it was a stressed stream of words. Failing his classes and not having enough time to do what he needed while Stiles massaged Scott’s spine. An almost panicked tone when he talked about Allison, if she was ever going to talk to him again, whether she really loved him, how much he missed her. Stiles silently ‘hm’ed every now and then, turning around to work Scott’s calves, working his way back up, letting Scott talk about about everything tied in with being a werewolf. Scott sighed softly as Stiles kneaded his gluteus, his words trailing off. Despite the topics, the tension didn’t return. Stiles pressed light, long strokes along Scott’s back as the teen wolf sighed deeply, the silence only interrupted by Stiles’ tuneless humming. Occasionally, Scott would think of something else and he would start again. Slowly though, Scott ran out of words, losing himself to Stiles’ hands.

Finding no more knots, Stiles flexed his hands; they were a bit tired from the massage. He rolled onto his side next to Scott, watching him carefully. Scott’s eyes were closed, but some of the lines had left his face. Stiles went back to drawing random patterns on the tan skin, their breathing the only sound in the room. In, out, in, out. In through the nose, out through the mouth, over and over. Scott opened his eyes, blinking slowly at Stiles.

“Thanks,” Scott whispered into the still air.

Stiles just nodded in response, hands still dancing along the lines of muscle, tracing the shoulder blades, feeling the knobs of the spine. In, out, in, out. Silently, Scott turned to face Stiles, tugging on his friend’s shirt. Another round of struggling has them both shirtless and Scott pushed Stiles onto his belly and climbed on him, reversing their earlier position.

Sighing as Scott’s hands massaged his shoulders, Stiles let his mind and mouth wander. He knew Scott wouldn’t mind.

\--

So yeah, maybe the massages weren’t exactly usual, but they weren’t exactly…not normal. And they seemed more normal as they had continued over the next few days. It helped relieve some of the tension, helped ground them.

_But…_

Stiles shifted back again, amazed at how Scott still felt warm against his feverish skin. _But, this…this might be a little bit, not quite normal_. Though Stiles certainly hadn’t complained when his friend had climbed into bed with him earlier today.

Somehow, Stiles had caught a bug. A flu, probably, which was normal, really. Out of place, given everything else that was going on, but it was an almost refreshingly normal problem to have to deal with. Rotate fluids, lots of bed rest, stay warm. Just normal sick day stuff. And Scott had come in after school, which was also pretty normal; they usually dropped by to see each other during sick days, bearing soup or lozenges or entertainment.

This time, though, Scott hadn’t come in with soup or gossip; instead, he had stripped down to his boxers, climbed under the nested layers of comforters, quilts, and blankets, and wrapped himself around Stiles like a living hot water bottle. Stiles had melted into the warmth, thinking, _Really, should this feel weird? Maybe it should feel weird._

Then Scott had whimpered in concern, a quiet sound of concern and nuzzled Stiles neck, trying to cover as much of the fevered skin as he could. He had held Stiles, gently nuzzling and stroking. The extra heat had helped soothe some of the aches and Stiles had felt himself drifting to sleep, too tired to resist or question.

 _Should this feel weird? ‘cause this isn’t really normal._ Stiles thoughts felt like they were still moving too fast, even though his brain was stuffed with cotton. Or snot. _Normal teenagers don’t cuddle their sick friends. They drop off homework, get water, or make cookies. They call or bring videos._ Hugs? Sure, hugs were normal. People hugged all the time; some people just hugged more often. Massages, okay, sure, massages could be normal. Maybe the fact that they were happening frequently since that night at school was a little different, but passable. _So maybe I should ask._ Stiles breathes, holding it to keep a cough back. _Check, if this is normal, ‘cause the fever is probably screwing with my head._ Stiles lets the breath out. _Or something_.

“Hey Scott…?”

“Yeah?”

_‘cause, even if this doesn’t feel weird, it probably is. I mean, what if someone saw us? What would they think? They wouldn’t think it was normal. They would probably think it was weird. Odd. Strange, even. So, yeah, I should ask._

…

…

_…except…_

_…except…what does it matter? What does it matter what other people think?_

…

_How long has it been just been me and Scott? Er, Scott and me? Scott and I? I and Scott? Well, sometimes it’s been Scott, and me, and dad, and Mrs. McCall. And now, it’s even Derek and Allison sometimes, ‘cause even I can tell that he’s a part of us, even if he won’t admit it and she totally misses Scott as much as he misses her and she’s a part of us and this and...and, you know, does anyone else really matter?_

_‘cause at least Dad and Mrs. McCall and Derek and Alison would be okay with it, even if they wouldn’t totally understand, but they kind of would and it doesn’t matter what normal is, because maybe it’s not normal, but at the same time it is and it’s us and it’s Scott and it feels really good and I need this and Scott needs it and I…it…we…it…it just feels good. So, screw normal. Normal hasn’t been a part of my life for a while now. So maybe this is our normal._

“…thanks.”

Stiles felt Scott nod. “Go to sleep Stiles,” he whispers. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

_…I feel pretty good right now._


End file.
